Interlude: Plan D
- Location
- Pennsylvania
Budget surges in recent months had been very good for NASA. Ever since the recession hit, the United States space program was impacted especially hard. A crashing economy combined with horrific weather conditions down in Florida had all but grounded the agency, leaving many to wonder if America would ever return to space in an official capacity.
Slowly but surely, things started to improve.
The dust bowl in the midwest still rendered the land inhabitable, but thanks to a number of interested corporations and some government spending, famine was a thing of the past. Sycorax and Gen-U-Tech broke new ground in their agricultural research, even as an eccentric pharmacist from the Rockies did his best to make cricket an acceptable protein. The dangerously underfunded military was bolstered by the biggest defense grants seen in years as new arms and armor flowed in from the megacorporations. Best of all, David Xanatos seemed to have taken a keen interest in what remained of the space program.
Luke Graham stepped out of the capsule, the first man to set foot on the lunar surface since 1972. It was the combined efforts of America's federal and industrial sectors that had placed a man back on the moon, and he was proud to echo the words of his predecessors.
"Ladies and gentlemen." Graham said as he touched down. "We've taken our second step. Only God knows how long the path is, but we will walk it."
The crew of three began their official mission, gathering samples from the surface for evidence of lunar ice or fossilized bacteria. A rover could have done the task just as well, of course, but this was about more than just research. After sixty years, man stood upon an alien world once more, and looked to the stars with wonder and ambition.
Things started going wrong on the second day.
The capsule had landed on the far edge of Oceanus Procellarum, far from the first missions that had set down in the Sea of Tranquility. No human had ever set foot there. So when a few scattered machine parts were found lying abandoned on the surface, there was some concern.
The crew radioed back to the orbiter; had the craft experienced any damage? Had they jettisoned anything?
No.
There was nothing on the scrap metal that could identify its source. Nothing on the capsule was missing. Recognizing a mystery, the crew took a small sample back with them, with plans to return on the third day to explore the area.
The pile was gone when they returned.
Confusion gave way to unease. The crew had been in constant contact, and had trained together for months. None were the sort to play pranks on the others, certainly not with the world watching.
On the fourth day they found gum wrappers.
The wrapping was purple, a brand no one recognized on the crew or in Cape Canaveral. NASA had quietly stopped public press conferences two days ago. With paranoia running higher and higher in the face of uncertainty, the crew rushed through their tasks, dreams of wonder and ambition giving way to a desire to be off this rock as soon as possible. While the rush led to a few mistakes, drawing out the length of the mission by agonizing hours, nothing else out of the ordinary occurred.
Until the last day.
Colonel Graham was leading his crew in a rover-based reconnaissance of the lunar plain when they spotted a dust cloud on the horizon. A quick triangulation sent a chill down his spine. It was coming from their lander.
Graham led his crew back to their only way off the Moon with increasing trepidation. Something wasn't right. When they got there, the base was in disarray. Objects and tools had been scattered, floating far across the lunar landscape. The entire base was covered in scuffed and powdery footprints. They led into the lander.
They weren't human.
Graham conferred with ground control for several tense minutes. They were long past the idea of considering this a prank, and NASA had dismissed the possibility of any other country being on the moon. The implications of what that meant were… troubling, to say the least. As laughable as the idea of aliens might have been on paper, this was to put it lightly a problem.
Especially for the people in the room who knew what was actually on Mars.
The crew entered the ship slowly, knowing noise did not carry but trying to limit vibrations nonetheless. Even as the atmosphere pressurised, none moved to remove their suits. They peeked slowly into the capsule, rattled but disciplined and prepared for anything.
That lasted until they saw the flash of white disappearing into the crew compartment.
Two of the crew swore as Graham wished desperately NASA had seen fit to add a weapon to the manifest. He picked up the flagpole they had brought as the next best thing.
The crew slowly entered the main chamber of the capsule, improvised weapons held at the ready, alert and prepared for-
Something tapped Graham on the shoulder. Slowly, he turned around, and saw…
"Heeeey there." The duck in welding goggles said, slowly bringing her hands together. "Name's Della. Liiisten, I know this is sudden, but… can I bum a ride with you?"
Years of discipline and training went out the window in an instant as Graham screamed at the top of his lungs. A second later the rest of his crew joined in. 238,900 miles away, an entire room full of technicians screamed in unison once the signal arrived.
Thousands of miles away from them, David Xanatos raised an eyebrow.
---
Della Duck has returned from the Moon!
Slowly but surely, things started to improve.
The dust bowl in the midwest still rendered the land inhabitable, but thanks to a number of interested corporations and some government spending, famine was a thing of the past. Sycorax and Gen-U-Tech broke new ground in their agricultural research, even as an eccentric pharmacist from the Rockies did his best to make cricket an acceptable protein. The dangerously underfunded military was bolstered by the biggest defense grants seen in years as new arms and armor flowed in from the megacorporations. Best of all, David Xanatos seemed to have taken a keen interest in what remained of the space program.
Luke Graham stepped out of the capsule, the first man to set foot on the lunar surface since 1972. It was the combined efforts of America's federal and industrial sectors that had placed a man back on the moon, and he was proud to echo the words of his predecessors.
"Ladies and gentlemen." Graham said as he touched down. "We've taken our second step. Only God knows how long the path is, but we will walk it."
The crew of three began their official mission, gathering samples from the surface for evidence of lunar ice or fossilized bacteria. A rover could have done the task just as well, of course, but this was about more than just research. After sixty years, man stood upon an alien world once more, and looked to the stars with wonder and ambition.
Things started going wrong on the second day.
The capsule had landed on the far edge of Oceanus Procellarum, far from the first missions that had set down in the Sea of Tranquility. No human had ever set foot there. So when a few scattered machine parts were found lying abandoned on the surface, there was some concern.
The crew radioed back to the orbiter; had the craft experienced any damage? Had they jettisoned anything?
No.
There was nothing on the scrap metal that could identify its source. Nothing on the capsule was missing. Recognizing a mystery, the crew took a small sample back with them, with plans to return on the third day to explore the area.
The pile was gone when they returned.
Confusion gave way to unease. The crew had been in constant contact, and had trained together for months. None were the sort to play pranks on the others, certainly not with the world watching.
On the fourth day they found gum wrappers.
The wrapping was purple, a brand no one recognized on the crew or in Cape Canaveral. NASA had quietly stopped public press conferences two days ago. With paranoia running higher and higher in the face of uncertainty, the crew rushed through their tasks, dreams of wonder and ambition giving way to a desire to be off this rock as soon as possible. While the rush led to a few mistakes, drawing out the length of the mission by agonizing hours, nothing else out of the ordinary occurred.
Until the last day.
Colonel Graham was leading his crew in a rover-based reconnaissance of the lunar plain when they spotted a dust cloud on the horizon. A quick triangulation sent a chill down his spine. It was coming from their lander.
Graham led his crew back to their only way off the Moon with increasing trepidation. Something wasn't right. When they got there, the base was in disarray. Objects and tools had been scattered, floating far across the lunar landscape. The entire base was covered in scuffed and powdery footprints. They led into the lander.
They weren't human.
Graham conferred with ground control for several tense minutes. They were long past the idea of considering this a prank, and NASA had dismissed the possibility of any other country being on the moon. The implications of what that meant were… troubling, to say the least. As laughable as the idea of aliens might have been on paper, this was to put it lightly a problem.
Especially for the people in the room who knew what was actually on Mars.
The crew entered the ship slowly, knowing noise did not carry but trying to limit vibrations nonetheless. Even as the atmosphere pressurised, none moved to remove their suits. They peeked slowly into the capsule, rattled but disciplined and prepared for anything.
That lasted until they saw the flash of white disappearing into the crew compartment.
Two of the crew swore as Graham wished desperately NASA had seen fit to add a weapon to the manifest. He picked up the flagpole they had brought as the next best thing.
The crew slowly entered the main chamber of the capsule, improvised weapons held at the ready, alert and prepared for-
Something tapped Graham on the shoulder. Slowly, he turned around, and saw…
"Heeeey there." The duck in welding goggles said, slowly bringing her hands together. "Name's Della. Liiisten, I know this is sudden, but… can I bum a ride with you?"
Years of discipline and training went out the window in an instant as Graham screamed at the top of his lungs. A second later the rest of his crew joined in. 238,900 miles away, an entire room full of technicians screamed in unison once the signal arrived.
Thousands of miles away from them, David Xanatos raised an eyebrow.
---
Della Duck has returned from the Moon!
Of course. "Gum wrappers." That should have made it obvious!!